Hexagonal in shape, the chapel is a quiet and tranquil place of worship where crew members come to give prayer and offerings of worship towards their deity of choice. Three tiers of benches ring the room in concentric lines, radiating inward to a slightly raised dais. The dais itself is lit from beneath, thick white opaque panels covering the lighting that's mirrored from above. Small offerings are left in the form of incense cones and small baubles ontop of the podium styled altar which has stylized carved figurines of each of the twelve major dieties. At each point of the hexagonal platform, there's a waist-high metal brazier in which burns a single pillar candle during ceramonies.

The chapel is dark, but for a tiny, wavering pinpoint of bright light at the top of the altar. There's just enough circulation of air in here, due to the oxygen scrubbers and the vaulted ceiling, to create a slight draft that gutters the single candle now and then. Others have been arranged atop a spread laid across the altar, in varying shapes and sizes. The heady scent of juniper has begun to slowly fill the space. Difficult to spot in the dark room, a somewhat bulky figure is seated in the back row of benches, head and shoulders slouched forward as he prays, or waits, or both.

The hatch opens, a little belatedly, and Salazar steps inside in sweats. She pulls the hatch closed behind her, gives the wheel a spin, and then takes a moment to run a hand through her hair. With a WHUMP, her duffle is thrown to the floor. With her back to the altar, she kicks off her shoes, and then kicks them into a pew to the left. "Frakkin' monster. I need a gods damned map to memorize." She pulls off her sweatshirt first, tosses that as well, then reaches down to shimmy her pants off. Those pool around her ankles, then are kicked to the side. She reaches down to tug the skirt down into place before she flashes the curve of her ass for too long. Getting aboard with civvie threads under regulation sweats is a bitch when it's a tightly fitted dress you're wearing. She brushes her hands down her belly, checks for bunched fabric, then runs her hands through her hair one more time to shake it out. She slides a hand down the dress between her breasts, and comes up with tiny circular mirror and lipstick tube. It's a bit dark for make up in here, so she ends up doing it by feel and memory. A moment of concentration, and a swipe of bloody red and non-reg makeup is applied to her lips. She sweeps fingers across the corners on the off chance she went a little wide with the color, then presses her lips together. The ritual from entrance to fin is about 35 seconds long. Her eyes are slow to adjust to the dimness. She briefly runs her hands up and down bare, inked arms.

With the darkness, and but one flame, it seems that the Captain kept in the back is not the only one. Coming from the small closet in which vestments and other sorts of things are stashed, the Chaplain makes himself known. However he is jut a silhouette in the darkness. He can be seen crossing to the Altar, and then moving low to his knees, before he is bowing in normal fashion. palms to the deck, before pressed together at his chest as he rises. Keeping his back to the hatch, and to the Captain, the Priest's head remains bowed. This lasts for a few minutes, as he bows two more times to complete the cycle, before rising up slowly and carefully. And there, his voice breaks into from the clear silence. The chant comes in the ancient Kalimnos, though nothing as one might expect the Gemenese to speak on a regular basis. But it warbles on, as the call to praise and prayer. An invocation of the gods:

'Our Lords above us, hear our prayers. listen as we join our voices to your divine Logos, and our words to the air, so that they may travel to your ears. Know our hearts and know our minds. Atehna we call you bear witness for us. Hermes come and carry us forth on fast wigs. Apollo may your light and truth burn bright, Afropdite show us love, and hekate mystery..'

The words themselves continue further, though it is not an eternity either has to wait. Though with the prayer done, there's a turn and a look back, perhaps a small smirk on Fulk's face as he spies the other party. With no words, just a simple hand motion, both are called to the Altar, where he now stands.

You know it's a great start to a wedding when the groom is lighting a cigarette while he waits for his derelict bride to arrive— and when said bride shows up in sweats, lets loose an f bomb in the chapel, and proceeds to flash the priest with her bare ass.

Yep, great start to a wedding.

As Salazar finally deigns to show herself, Karim ducks his head to finish taking the pull he'd started from his cigarette, and quickly puts it out on the deck by his booted feet. Ahem. Nothing to see here. He waves the air a couple of times, grasps the back of the bench in front of him, and hauls himself to his feet as Fiver begins his invocation. He pauses for a long while, and rakes his eyes over what he can see of the dusky-skinned woman in the almost dark. Talk about undressing with one's eyes. After about thirty seconds, he clears his throat quietly and reaches for her hand so they can head up to the altar.

Sal makes her way down the aisle, bare feet soundless on the decking. Her approach through the dimness to the light passes almost undetected — or would if she hadn't announced herself with the muttering when she entered. The marine makes her way to the groom, hands pressed against her outer thighs before she flexes her fingers, and lets her arms hang loose, casual. She reaches over to take Karim's hand, then hisses out of the side of her mouth, "I don't get a hit? Querido." She shakes her head and continues on to the termination of the aisle, just in front of the altar. Her fingers do the death squeeze.

Eddie needs a place to hide on the ship, and what better place then the Chapel where few would ever look for her. It's not a time when service is typically being held, so when she steps through the Chapel and sees people here, she almost ducks back out. Whoa. Wait a second. /That/ is Marek. /That/ is Starface. And Starface is in a dress…this just got interesting. Mooner slips in, sitting at the far back against the wall, trying to be all unnoticed.

Fiver is silent for a moment, as the smirk remains on his face. Still, with a clearing of his throat, the Chaplain places is hands on theirs before adding a smile. "As Zeus said to the lords. My children, brothers, and sisters. We are meant to be together, and so should be our creations.." His accent harsh, but still the words are easy to understand. "That is why After Prometheus made man, he quickly had him make woman." a grin there as he releases their hands and moves, turning to light the remaining candles. "However, when two opposites were made, so were sparks. And with woman man got Fire. Big fire." a chuckle as his hands move, quickly with a stick, from the main light to the other little votives.

"Bow your heads with me. Almighty lords, we ask that you look favorably upon us this day. Recieve our prayers and bless this union we make, of Salazar Nikos, and Karim Marek. May their lives be long an happy. Ares shield them from internal conflict, Afropdite keep their love hot. Athena, show the love of a wife, and Hades, when their end comes, may it come for them together long down fate's road. So, say We all."

With the prayer done, he turns back to them, with one unlit candle and his long match. "Noth both, light this candle and say your vows.."

The chapel is dark at the moment, and while services haven't been scheduled for the public, there's definitely some kind of ceremony being held. The air is heavy with juniper and a trace of cigarette smoke, though currently only a single candle at the front is lit. A pair of figures have made their way to the altar: a dark-haired officer in his dress gray uniform; the woman beside him with her hand gripping his firmly, wears a crimson shift dress. Both of them are limned in flickering candlelight— and the Saggie half of the couple, at least, is slightly nervous.

As Fiver lights the remaining candles, the spread covering the altar that they've been set upon becomes clearer, as does the couple themselves. It appears to be an old blanket, with faded marks the colour of blood that's been scrubbed and scrubbed but left behind the memory of its colour in the fabric. Sections of it have been stitched with pale silk handkerchiefs, about four or five in total, with writing inked into them and strips of duct tape in places binding the pieces together along with thread. Snippets of verse might be spotted by Salazar or Fiver: 'no carnations or barcaroles for me' across a stitch of embroidery. Or, nearly transparent between the glow of a candle and the stone beneath: 'as in a well falls yesterday's water, into the cistern of all still without voice or fire'. Snippets of memory, or music, or stories told over time.

Bowing his head, Kai listens to the soft drone of the chaplain's voice, and only lifts his eyes when they're given leave to speak their vows. He squeezes Salazar's hand and then releases it, and goes down on one knee to help her light the candle. His voice is low and rough in the flickering dark, the words clearly not standard Colonial, "Mubarak bad bar ma in arusi. Khujasta bad mara n arusi. Chu shir u chun shakar bada hamisha. Chu sahba vu chu halva in arusi.."

A translation follows, without Kai ever breaking pace, "May these vows and this marriage be blessed. May it be sweet, this marriage, like wine and halvah. May it offer fruit and shade like the date palm."

The dark haired marine reaches up, black glossed fingernails shimmering wetly in the low light as she reaches to take the unlit candle's base after going to her knees beside the pilot. She breathes in deeply and her shoulders slowly relax as Karim speaks his vows in Kashmiri. She swallows, and a very soft smile graces her lips. Her eyes roam the altar, and the smile widens, though she says nothing of the words. There's a breath as he translates his vows to Standard, and then she begins to recite her own to him, just the beginnings.

"I, Salazar, affirm my love to you, Karim, as I invite you to share my life." Salazar's dark eyes remain fixed on Karim's blue, the quiet words passing from her lips with that touch of lowness, a slight gravel underneath. The vows begin traditionally enough. "You are the most passionate, infuriating," And then they take a liberal sort of turn, clearly heavily edited by the Scorpian marine, "deliberate, beautiful, unstealthy, dead sexy person I have ever known, and I promise to always respect you," She smiles, red painted lips curving into a grin as she finishes the first section of her vows, "rarely obey you, and frequently adore you with tongue."

Eddie crosses an arm over her chest, leaning back against the bulkhead. She hugs her midsection while her other hand comes up to cover the curve of her mouth with a fan of fingers to hide her expression. She's just a silent witness to the vows, not making a peep from her little seat in the shadows.

The last candle flickers into being, and illuminates two sets of fingers as the match is blown out and tossed away. Karim's eyes return to the woman on her knees beside him as she takes her turn at giving him her vows. It's a credit to his restraint, that the.. unorthodox wording doesn't result in him hauling her out by her hair and giving her a stern talking to. The wedding hardly had an auspicious start, and that doesn't look likely to change any time soon. "Chu shr u chun shakar bd hamsha," he continues, fingertips brushing her knee, feathering over the fabric of her dress as his voice grows more earnest, "Chu sahba vu chu halva n arusi. Ham az barg u ham az mayva mumatta. Misal-i nakhl-i khurma n arusi. May this marriage be full of laughter, our every day a day in-" He clears his throat quietly. There was definitely the urge to lose it there for a second. "a day in paradise." Oh, gods. Is he going to make it through this? Tune in to find out!

Dark eyes remain on Karim as Salazar listens to his words, that smile on her lips never quite fading away. When his fingers brush her knee, she smiles a little wider, then bites her lower lip, nodding to the invocation of paradise. And her words begin again, carrying through the chapel as the warm glow flickers behind them. "I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you, and to comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle. I promise to love you in good times and in bad, when life seems easy and when it seems hard, when our love is simple, and when it is an effort. I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together, full of coffee in bed, co-bunking when it's cold, even if your feet are ice, unexpected love letters, fat babies when there's time, and a cabin beside a lake if ever the opportunity presents itself. I promise to share the blankets and take all the pillows, but give you the warmth of my body as a comfort instead." Salazar takes a soft breath, and adds a simple, "What is mine is yours." The tone rather than the words indicate more to come in the exchanging of vows. She falls silent to leave him his turn to speak.

Karim's hand stays on her knee. There's apparently no shame in touching the woman you're about to marry, where Saggie custom is concerned. That, or he's forgotten about custom just at the moment, and is trying to get over the fact that Sal's kneeling next to him in a dress. "Chu havran-i bihishti bad khandan," he continues, voice only wavering a fraction, "Abad amruz farda n arusi. Nishan-i rahmat u tavqi'i davlat. Ham inja vu ham anca in arusi." His lashes lower for a second, and then lift again. "May this marriage be a sign of compassion, a seal of happiness here and hereafter. What is mine, what I have and what I am, is yours." And then he slips in a quiet mutter, "Except that tee shirt, which I want back. It was only a temporary loan."

The soft intake before her lips part again is deep, indicating very little pause to come as she continues her pledge to the pilot. The words are spoken both with reverence and irreverence, each in its place, the litany itself like a prayer to the listening gods. "I take you, Karim Marek, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, to fight and to reconcile, from this day forward, for better, worse, or hellishly awful, through heavy gunfire, mortars, boarding actions, loss, occupied territory, radiation, shitty cabins in the woods, suicidal offensives on heavily guarded radio towers, sucking chest wounds, jury rigged radio repairs, rust buckets, bitchy COs, ice cold bunks, frigid showers, love letters, dirty poetry, and cultural differences (you dirty Saggie), for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and with sexual favors whenever you want them, so long as you share every last one of your smokes, but you're not getting that shirt back, for as long as we both shall live." Her hands press lightly to her thighs, brushing over the soft fabric of the dress there, and she remains on her knees beside Karim. Her gaze unwavering, she studies the subtleties of his reactions.

Eddie is quiet through all of this, the perfect little observer mouse. No doubt, though, that this will be spread all over the ship faster then wildfire as soon as she leaves. If she could fold herself any smaller and be any more invisible, she'd surely try. This is too good to be kicked out of.

The pilot's eyes don't stray once from Salazar's. When she breathes, he breathes. When she speaks, there's a very slight flicker at one corner of his mouth, and the moment she pauses, he resumes. "Niku nam u niku ruy u niku fal. Chu mah u charkh-i khazra n arusi. Ki ba'sirisht ast jan ba in arusi. May this marriage have a fair face and a good name, an omen as welcome as a full moon in a clear blue sky." He hesitates for a moment, and then turns a fraction more toward her, his voice dropping even lower as he speaks almost in a whisper. It's enough for Salazar to hear, and for the chaplain to hear, but not much more. "I will love you when you are smiling. I will love you when you are screaming, crying, bleeding, giving me attitude because you want to provoke a fight out of me. I will love you when you're aggravating me, I will love you when you're calming me. I will love you when love is just being in the same place, at the same time, sharing a silence with you." It's clearly ad-libbed. His voice doesn't stutter, but it does hitch here and there. "I love.. you, Salazar Nikomedes Nikos." He swallows thickly. "For as long as we both shall live. And on, when we are but dust, and into Elysium."

"I love you, too baby," she murmurs softly before, finally, Salazar tips up a little, her hands rise from her thighs, traverse the distance between them, and she slides them over his shoulders. "Now pay attention. This is the sweet part." Her hands come to rest on Karim's throat, thumbs brushing his cheeks. When she speaks again, these words are more serious, more traditional, without embellishment. "Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay." She slides her thumbs under his earlobes, "Your people will be my people, and your Gods will be my Gods. Where you die, I will die and there I will be buried. May the Lords do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me."

Whether or not the touching of a woman in a dress, or the cultural notes hold any importance to the Priest, or even offend him, it would not be shown. But, if the newlyweds were truly worried about that the chaplain was doing, all they have to do is but look. All they would see on Fiver's face is a rather large and beaming smile, one that is sincere and genuine. Nothing forced on with the padre, as it were. Wolfram just grins, perhaps a tad more as the passion shows in the words, from both, and yes a small chuckle given there.

"Gutt." Good, for those who have run with Gemenese. "Now here.." and through this time he hard turned and poured a small chalice with wine. Careful there. "Lords look favorably on this marriage which we sanctify with the giving of our greatest gifts. Fruit of the vine, like ambrosia to us is held special. So we alll drink in communion with you o' lords." And with that the Priest takes a sip, before he is offering it over to the Newlyweds each. Once they too have a sip, there's a turn and bow to the Altar, before the remainder is poured into a silverish bowl. there to sit for the remainder of the ceremony.

And with that he turns, reaching for a thin blade, and a long white piece of paper, made out to be like a ribbon. "Present your hands.." said softly to them both. "Our second gift, is the gift of blood, and life. What you had poured into us from Poseidon, and breathed into us from Athena, we offer to you, to show that we give you our all." Once hands are presented it would be a quick prick to the palm, enough to draw blood of both, but not cause a wound that cannot heal quickly. Bloody knife is raised and moved to be slid into the bowl on the altar.

Fiver smiles as he reaches for both hands to place them together, palm to palm. "In my Colony we always say 'Zonder mijn en dijn zou de wereld een hemel zijn' " the Kalimnos and slang thrown together in that guttural bark. "Which means to say, without mine or yours, the world will be heaven. As you are now one, in the sight of this ship, and within the sight of the gods above. My only word of advice is to live life as one. Share your: words, hearts, and souls. And your world will be like Elysium.." And with that he has bound their hands with a simple knot, made from the ribboned scripture. "Man to woman, woman to man. What I have put together here in the name of th' Gods, may no one ever pull asunder." A beat. "If they try, let me know, I have a mean right hook, and a track record to maintain." A faint grin. "You are now. Captain and Lieutenant Marek." his own pronounciation. Of course he'll sign the paper work and pass it up, for all intents and purposes once this little bit is done-they are man in wife. "Have a great an happy life together."

As the ceremony draws to a close, Eddie continues to sit there at the back, voyeuring in on this very private moment. When they are pronounced husband and wife, she doesn't clap or hoot and holler, she just quietly slips to her feet.

Kai stills as Salazar's hands touch him. Just a soft chink of the various bits of metal and ornament pinned to the sash of his uniform, as he straightens his shoulders a touch. He's even thought to shave for the occasion, so it isn't bristle, for once, that greets the woman's fingers as they run over his jaw. For the last part of the vows, he actually mouths along with her. The words aren't spoken aloud, but ghosted on his lips a moment after they leave hers. A small smile forms once she's finished, and it's only the chaplain's voice that manages to stir him out of his reverie at last. A sip is taken of the green tinted ambrosia, his tongue darting across his lower lip to chase the sheen of alcohol. And then he submits silently to the bloodletting, with only the slightest wince. As a worshipper of Ares, he is probably accustomed to this sort of devotion. His fingers weave with Salazar's as their hands are bound together. Thumb brushing her thumb, blue eyes steady on dark. And the minute the chaplain gives his final blessing, Karim's grip is tightened, and he draws Salazar in close so he can tilt his head and lay a searing kiss on her lips. This is no chaste peck that a man might give in the presence of small children. There might even be some tongue going on there. It lasts… a few seconds. Ten, twenty.. ok, maybe more like thirty.

Try forty five, pilot. Sheez, learn to count. Salazar's hand slides down the Captain's back. There might be a little ass groping too, as she's pulled into that sustained kiss. There's no question about the enthusiasm on either side, and then there's a laugh, through it's stilled by joined mouths and a hella lotta tongue. For a moment it almost seems as if the two may have to be pried apart or hosed down. Then again, getting too close probably wouldn't be wise at this juncture, particularly to interrupt. "Te quiero, cabron." That's murmured breathily as the kiss breaks, and the marine pulls away from the pilot. "Congratulations, Captain." Oh, right. She removes her hand from his ass.

Eddie draws up to her full height in front of the hatch, her hands at her back at parade rest despite the fact she's in off duty gear. Probably one of the few times Eddie's ever looked presentable enough to pass muster. When the kiss is through and couple seems to disengage, Eddie's clearing her throat. "Congratulations, sir….Starface." A brief smile touches the corner of her mouth before she bows gently at the waist, then vacates.

Dell has appeared into the chapel for his normal devotionals but as he is witness to a sudden wedding he quietly makes his way to a seat as he drops into his seat and lowers his head to pray in the back of the chapel quietly since he doesn't know anyone in this room beyond the S2 very well.

"Doset daram," Karim murmurs throatily, his hand still clasped with Salazar's, and his body leaning in slightly as she leans away. "Doset daram," is repeated even softer, another kiss brushed to her lips before he too grins, and noses her ear. "Congratulations yourself, Lieutenant Marek." He might be about to say more, when Eddie's throat clearing from the back drags his attention that way. He turns a high wattage smile on her, too, passes his eyes briefly across the marine who's wandered in, then starts unbinding the ribbon from he and Salazar's hands. It's caught up in his palm, and tucked into a pocket of his uniform.

Salazar's fingers tighten on Karim's as they turn. She flashes a grin to Eddie too. "Gracias, Morales." She slides her hand to the small of Karim's back. "That was relatively painless," she murmurs, then turns her eyes from Eddie to Dell. She glances over, eyes following the progress of the Captain's hand to his pocket. She flicks her hair over her shoulder, and says to the pilot, "I have until the morning."

Eddie slips out, leaving the happy couple to arrange their military honeymoon.

The chaplain departs to give the couple a few moments of privacy, and Kai climbs to his feet slowly, favouring that left knee just a little. He offers Salazar his right hand — instead of the bloodied left — to help her rise. See, he can be gentlemanly once in a while. "That dress," he murmurs into her ear, with a glance toward the back of the chapel to ensure the interlopers have vanished again, "makes me want to do dirty things to you." Then he pulls away to blow out the candles one by one, plunging them inch by inch into darkness. "I can't make you a bonfire, but I did bring a bottle of rum. We can sit on the observation deck and watch the stars for a while."

Salazar takes his hand, the smile lingering as she looks over to him. "You should see what's under it." She brushes her fingers against his, grip loosening then tightening again. "That sounds even better. Well." She licks her fingertips and reaches over to pinch a wick, a wet sizzle extinguishing the flame. "Just as good. So long as you're there. And you slide your hand up my thigh."

"Come here." If Salazar's first words were an invitation, Karim's are a huskily-voiced order. "And give me the rings already, so I can claim my delinquent wife properly." He tugs her closer, having not released her hand just yet.

Sal laughs as she's pulled in closer to him. She reaches down into the dress to slide two flesh warmed circlets of metal from her breast. "I wore these next to my heart through the vows. They're binding, querido." She opens her right hand, the mixed metal circlets resting against her fingers, one slightly larger than the other. "Delinquent. I hope you enjoyed my vows. I worked so hard on them for you."

"Querido," Karim repeats, his rougher accent mangling the word pretty badly. "Tell me what it means. Aren't we not meant to keep secrets from each other, now?" Blue eyes come up to meet hers as he takes the smaller ring from her hand, and brushes his thumb over the circlet of metal. It's brandished for a moment, then he takes her left wrist and gently slides the ring over her third finger. And touches it first to his lips for a kiss, then to his heart. "I did." Enjoy her vows. His mouth quivers with the urge not to smile.

"Querido means beloved, cabron." Salazar smiles again, that expression scarcely having left her features since the vows began, in truth since she saw him dressed for her. "To know mine, you have but to ask." She takes the larger ring, and holds it up until he offers his hand, then slides it into place on his ring finger, where it fits comfortably. "Bueno." She nods. "Good."

He's always been slower to smile than Salazar, but the corners of his lips and the crow's feet near his eyes hint at warmth in the man, nevertheless. "And cabron," he murmurs, glancing down at his hand when the ring's slid on, then back up again slowly. His fingers sweep some of her dark hair aside, brushing her cheek in that way they do; both careful and careless at once. "I want you to take my name. You said you would." He leans in to brush her cheek with his nose, and his palm slides down to her throat where his fingers wrap gently. "Will you?"

Her dark eyes are warm, touched by that lingering smile. She closes her eyes briefly when his cheek brushes hers. "I will. I have." All that remains is the paperwork. She breathes in a slow, deep breath as his hand finds her throat. "Kiss me, husband. And then I'll light a candle for Aphrodite, and we can go breathe in the stars."

He finally smiles. It's a shadowed little thing in a darkened room. It can't be seen, but it can be felt when he leans in close, and brushes his fingers down her back until they reach her waist. And pulls her in flush against him, and kisses her again. It's a slow, decadent kiss that tastes faintly of mint, of the cigarette he smoked while he waited for her, and of dying candles in the air around them. His other arm slides around her to join the first, and he gives a soft little growl into the kiss as he hoists her up off her feet.

The snug design of the dress keeps her from doing the usual thing when he pulls her from her feet. Instead, her arms wrap around his shoulders, breath catching in her throat as she kisses him back. She kisses him back, her own lips tasting of ambrosia, the sweet tang of her lipstick, and at least a hint of coffee from earlier. There's also the warm, smooth steel through her tongue, a tactile addition to the kiss. A candle for Aphrodite seems somehow unnecessary, but it is tradition. The Goddess seems already to be smiling.